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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515808">a string that ties to you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinytendril/pseuds/tinytendril'>tinytendril</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Smut, Teen Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:21:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515808</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinytendril/pseuds/tinytendril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and one-shots based on sentence prompts, many of which will contain fluff and general romance. This collection is Robbaery-centric, but will include Theonsa, Gendrya, and Jon x Ygritte. Tags will change to reflect any additional ships.</p><p>1) Can I pet your dog? Do I know you? - Robbaery<br/>2) OH you're jealous! - Theonsa - High School AU<br/>3) Are you flirting with me? You noticed? - Robbaery<br/>4) Are we on a date right now? - Theonsa - High School AU<br/>5) All I do is drink coffee and say bad words - Gendrya<br/>6) I’m here for you. - Robbaery</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Theonsa Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Can I pet your dog? Do I know you? (Robb/Margaery)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please visit my <a href="https://tinytendril.tumblr.com/post/624631803470299137/oh-and-ill-be-filling-prompts-for-fluff-fics">tumblr</a> for a full list. I may also open this up for the public to send it requests =)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Prompt: “Can I pet your dog?” “Do I know you?”<br/>Pairing: Robb/Margaery<br/>Word Count: 1315<br/>Rating: T</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Greywind wasn’t by any means a new puppy. Firstly, he was nearing seven in June. Secondly, he was well-trained to listen to commands and even understood coded looks Robb would occasionally give him. And he definitely didn’t carry on with impulsive behaviour if Robb was around to reprimand him. </p><p> </p><p>Yet, the strength in which Greywind pulls on his leash nearly makes Robb trip over his own feet as they head toward the grotto area of the park. ‘Grey! Heel!’ Robb tries to catch up to his husky.</p><p> </p><p>‘What’s gotten into ya’?’ He finally reaches Greywind, who finally stops bounding ahead of him. He tries to make his furry head face him, asking, ‘‘Y’arite, pal?’</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t understand Greywind’s eagerness to reach this secluded part of the park. Godswood has always been their favourite retreat from the bustling town centre, but this particular path wasn’t part of their usual walk. It’s true that he’s been needing more fresh air from holing himself up in his flat since his falling out and subsequent break up with his ex, Jeyne, a few weeks ago. But that didn’t mean he needed to be distracted and extend the short walk he intended to have with his dog in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Peering around the thicket of green and brown shrubs, high fir trees, babbling brooks, and a small lake that led to a cave, he wonders, ‘Why have you taken me here, Grey? You know we usually go--’ </p><p> </p><p>Greywind stands alert again and starts sniffing away from him. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks to shout out, <em> bad dog </em>or something along those lines to reprimand him, something he is surprised he’s not done since Greywind wet the bathroom tile as a puppy. Instead, he grumbles, ‘Right, we haven’t got time for this now. We’ve only got an hour before we promised Sansa a visit.’ </p><p> </p><p>Just as Robb tries to reel the leash toward him, he sees what his dog might have been searching for up ahead. Around the corner of the thicket and more trees, where Greywind continues to pad toward, is a woman with wavy, blonde hair wearing a dress he can only imagine being too thin for Winterfell’s deceivingly sunny yet cold spring day. </p><p> </p><p>‘Oi! Grey!’ He loses the leash altogether, cursing at what he realizes was his momentary distraction. Embarrassment floods his senses, watching the woman turn to find Greywind barking for her attention, the leash zipping toward him as it starts to coil toward his collar from its automatic mechanism.</p><p> </p><p>He catches up, and he doesn’t have an excuse past the short jog he does to get to them for his nervous intake of breath. She’s even more distracting up close, beautiful in the way he remembers women looking in the black and white films his mother used to watch when he was younger. Her hair is curled and pinned in the same way he remembers Vivien Leigh’s hair was in one of those films.</p><p> </p><p>‘Can I pet your dog?’ She bites down on her bottom lip, seemingly ignorant of his speechlessness. When he only nods, she kneels to scratch behind the Greywind’s ears, something that makes him nuzzle toward her touch.</p><p> </p><p>The amount of trust and affection his dog has for her would perplex him if it wasn’t for his sudden urge to focus on the sound of her voice. She sounded oddly familiar, and, as he embarrassingly stares on, he thinks he recognizes her. ‘Do I know you?’</p><p> </p><p>She gives a surprising burst of giggles at Greywind licking at her cheek, trying to let out, ‘I don’t think so.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Sorry,’ he apologizes, and finally gets the overeager dog to sit properly with a firm command. ‘I don’t know why he’s acting this way, he’s usually better behaved. He must not have been able to resist your scent.’</p><p> </p><p>He mentally cringes. <em> What did you just say, idiot?  </em></p><p> </p><p>‘Oh, he’s lovely,’ she says, rising to her feet. She’s wearing low heels, but heels nonetheless. And, alongside her summer dress, this was all he needed to gather that she wasn’t from town. </p><p> </p><p>‘Do you mind me assuming… that you’re lost?’ he asks hesitantly.</p><p> </p><p>There’s an appealing quirk at the side of her mouth. It curls upward to make a lopsided smile. ‘I am, actually. I was just on my mobile with a friend that I’m meant to meet later. I only wanted to visit the rose gardens in the park before I meet her, but I obviously took a wrong turn. Luckily, you came along… would you…’</p><p> </p><p>‘Of course, it’s only just around the corner from here,’ he says, thinking of his luck as well. ‘I’m Robb, by the way.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Margaery,’ she smiles widely as she says so. </p><p> </p><p>As they redirect themselves, and as they roam idly within the rose gardens, he learns about her hometown of Highgarden and her pack of brothers. He compares his own family with hers, noting that his brothers would more likely be described as a pack of wolves. He also learns that she finds him funny. It takes some restraint to not overdo his string of jokes to hear more of her laughter, clear and melodious as a bell.</p><p> </p><p>They reach Godwood’s exit when he realizes that he hadn’t been keeping track of the time, something that he knows has to do with how much he was drawn into their conversation. One that mostly kept him on his toes from how quick her mind seemed to work. Curiously, he wonders if the nerves he wasn’t yet able to temper around her meant that he wasn’t as tragically hung up on Jeyne as his friends and family thought he was. </p><p> </p><p>Again, he’s staring after her too long and, as soon as he strikes up the courage to ask for her number, he’s taken aback to find her briskly offering her thanks and a hand to shake. </p><p> </p><p>He can only manage, ‘<em>Oh</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>‘I’m sorry, I really should be going. I promised my friend I’d be meeting her--er--about fifteen minutes ago.’ She certainly looks disappointed or maybe he imagines her looking as gutted as he feels. ‘Goodbye, Robb.’</p><p> </p><p>As her figure shrinks in the other direction of the street, he feels regret growing with each step she takes away from him. Even Greywind’s demeanour seems to feel heavier with his head slightly bowed. </p><p> </p><p>‘Sansa,’ he sighs as he picks up her call. ‘I know, I know, I’m late. Listen, I--’</p><p> </p><p>‘Robb, you’re lucky my friend is late too,' Sansa starts in a clipped tone. 'And before you tell me to stop setting you up with my friends, and that I'm obviously tricking you into visiting me today to meet someone instead, I should have you know that she’s coming all the way from--’</p><p> </p><p>‘Highgarden,’ he doesn’t hide how hopeful or potentially off the mark he sounds.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a beat over the line before she replies, ‘How could you possibly know that?’ </p><p> </p><p>‘Is your friend… Margaery?’ </p><p> </p><p>‘Robb, how the hell--yes, that’s her.’ There’s shuffling on the other side of her line, and he images his sister repositioning or scratching her head in confusion. ‘She used to come to mum’s summer cottage in Riverland when you and Jon spent the summers hunting with dad’s friend in Stormsend. You might have crossed paths one summer, but I can’t remember now. But I can't imagine you knowing about her visiting when I've only just reconnected with her this past month… would you?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Sansa… I’ve got to go,’ he says, eyes settling on the horizon that Margaery disappeared into. He doesn’t explain much after that, ending their phone call with a cryptic promise to be on his way soon.</p><p> </p><p>Even Greywind picks up the sudden alertness in his stance, his yellow, canine eyes peering up at him, waiting for a command. He tells him, ‘Can you find her again, pal?’ </p><p> </p><p>With the tug of his leash, he tries to keep up once more. <em> Good dog</em>.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. OH you're jealous! (Theon/Sansa)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For diligentocelet, a tumblr request for this <a href="https://tinytendril.tumblr.com/post/624631803470299137/oh-and-ill-be-filling-prompts-for-fluff-fics">post</a>.</p><p> </p><p>Sansa patches up a wounded Theon. Theonsa High School AU.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Prompt: ‘OH you’re jealous!’<br/></strong>
  <strong>Pairing: Theonsa<br/></strong>
  <strong>Word Count: 2240<br/></strong>
  <strong>Rating: T</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>‘Ow!’</p><p> </p><p>‘Hold still.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Oi, that’s my eye!’</p><p> </p><p>‘You’ll lose one if you don’t hold <em> still</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>Being in a house full of siblings with semi-permanent skinned knees and bruises, Sansa had always known her way around a first aid kit. </p><p> </p><p>But Theon was not a sibling. Swabbing near his eyebrow, touching the swollen skin around the cut there, felt oddly intimate. Other than elbowing him to get to the roasted potatoes because he was a guest at family dinners and therefore not entitled to first helpings of anything (and because he tended to use a heavy hand in plating his meal), she never had a reason to place her hands on him. </p><p> </p><p>His silence in letting her finally patch him up didn’t help. Neither did her observations of how blue his eyes were on closer inspection. They weren’t like hers, they were lighter and somehow piercing in a way that made her feel a sudden prick to her heart, effectively making it beat faster. </p><p> </p><p><em> No, no, no, sod </em> <b> that</b>. She wasn’t one of Theon’s <em> girls</em>. The girls that would swoon over how handsome he is and forget about all the ways he tends to <em>forget </em>about them. This last thought makes her hands drop from his face.</p><p> </p><p>Gulping a rather dry lump in her throat, she has to ask, ‘Why did you do it? And why have you been telling everyone to <em> not </em> ask me out?’</p><p> </p><p>He winces, possibly due to the sudden movement he makes of his wrist, the one that’s connected to his scraped fist, the fist that had solidly connected to Joffrey Baratheon’s left cheek. She would tell him to <em>suck it up</em>, but then she remembers the spectacularly fearful look Joffrey had on his face as he cowered under Theon. </p><p> </p><p>‘One, Joffrey’s a prick. Freebie,’ he says, starting to count on his fingers. ‘Two, I’d rather not see my best mate’s sister groped in public, thanks.’</p><p> </p><p>‘And why have you been telling—’</p><p> </p><p>‘I don’t know what you’re on about, Stark.’</p><p> </p><p>Sansa leans back, folding her arms to her chest and curling her lips backward, trying her best to display her impatience. After a few maddening seconds of staring at his impassive gaze, restless on her seat on the steps to their school’s entrance, she bursts, ‘You’re not Robb, you know. You don’t have an excuse to tell people—’</p><p> </p><p>‘The rugby team,’ he interjects.</p><p> </p><p>‘Ha!’ she exclaims, jabbing her index finger into his chest. ‘Hang on, the whole team?’</p><p> </p><p>She smirks as she hands him an ice pack, mildly impressed by this news. It makes him pull a face. </p><p> </p><p>‘You know, if Robb hadn’t left me here for his fancy school in the south to babysit—fuck’s sake.’ He winces as he places the ice pack on the side of his mouth that’s bruised. </p><p> </p><p>‘You’re not my brother, Theon,’ she tells him, her eyes narrow at him.</p><p> </p><p>‘Yeah, well,’ he says, gesturing uselessly. Then, he abruptly gets up from his seat and starts toward the school’s car park. Throwing his voice over his shoulder, he asks, ‘Can we leave it for now? Unless you fancy walking home tonight.’</p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes, knowing he wouldn’t go back on promising Jon that he’d give her a ride home, even if he wanted to. </p><p> </p><p>‘Theon, hold on,’ she sighs, quickly packing up her first aid kit and her other belongings to catch up to his side. </p><p> </p><p>As she jogs up to him, she can’t help but feel uneasy around him again. His tendency to find an easy joke or slyly find a way to diffuse a situation seems absent here. Even his walk toward the car park seems tense, with hands shoved into his pockets and grumbled, indiscernible comments made under his breath. She wonders if he’s still angry that he didn’t get the last punch in or if he’s angry that Joffrey’s friend did. </p><p> </p><p>‘Theon,’ she tries gently as they strap themselves into their seats in his car. ‘Even if I’m completely against fighting and definitely did not enjoy the sexist remarks from our headmaster--no, sir, I will <em>not </em>find a longer hemline for my skirt--I should thank you. I mean… just… thank you.’</p><p> </p><p>It’s not much but he does pause to give her a hesitant nod before he turns his key to start the ignition. And allowing her to pick the music on their way to her house wouldn’t seem like a big deal for most people, but <em>she </em>knew that letting her play a curated list of nostalgic boy bands songs from the 90s <em> is </em> a big deal. </p><p> </p><p>And it is a big deal that he’s not talking. It’s his thing. Yes, his looks have gotten him so far, all the way into his last year of secondary school, but it’s his gift for turning a phrase or saying the right (and sometimes the wrong) amount of cheeky things that charm anyone that encounters him. </p><p> </p><p>She’s so uncomfortable with the silence that she doesn’t think before asking, ‘Right, can we at least talk about what happens next?’ </p><p> </p><p>‘Erm—’</p><p> </p><p>‘I can’t <em>not </em>date. I’m nearly sixteen. And as embarrassing as it is to admit this to you, the truth is… I’ve never actually had a boyfriend before or gone on a real date.’</p><p> </p><p>‘All the more reason—’</p><p> </p><p>‘You know, I wouldn’t even consider anyone on your rugby team. So, you don’t have to worry about that. But if I do find someone that’s shown some interest and is respectable, you have to promise not to interfere,’ she reasons with him. </p><p> </p><p>He gives her a fleeting glance before getting off the roundabout just ahead of her street, his hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. ‘So… is there someone?’</p><p> </p><p>She thinks of the random text she got a week ago, a text that gives her pause to think of Theon’s question. </p><p> </p><p>‘Podrick.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Payne?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Is there another Podrick at school?’ </p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes while concentrating on the road. ‘He’s… not horrible.’</p><p> </p><p>‘So, it’s settled.’ She smiles triumphantly. ‘You can’t stop him from asking—’</p><p> </p><p>The car and her music come to a jerking stop. They’ve arrived at her house. </p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Theon</em>,’ she huffs, adjusting her hair from the sudden jarring motion, trying to move the curtain of thick red hair out of her face. ‘What <em> is </em> your problem?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Problem? I’ve got zero problems. You’ve made your point. Date away.’ He shrugs, finally facing her, his mouth tightly spread into a straight line. </p><p> </p><p>Something pricks at her heart again, its pace quickening. She asks, ‘Is he vile like Joffrey?’</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head. ‘‘Course not.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Is he texting other girls too?’</p><p> </p><p>He lets out a laugh. ‘Doubt it.’</p><p> </p><p>‘How would you know?’</p><p> </p><p>‘He’s just not that kind of bloke, is he?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Is he boring? Why am I sensing a <em> but </em> here?’</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs again, frustrating her more. Somehow, this brings back his habitual smirking and a glint in his eyes. She decides this won’t do. He would not be getting a thanks and negotiating whether or not she was ready for a boyfriend today.</p><p> </p><p>‘Oh,’ she says, narrowing her eyes. Then, ‘<em>Oh</em>, you’re jealous.’</p><p> </p><p>Other than the urge to wipe his smirk off his face, she doesn’t know what possesses her to say <em>that </em> , to accuse him of <em>that</em>, but it’s out now and it’s too late to take back her words. </p><p> </p><p>‘Wh-what?’ He stammers. ‘You’re mad, Stark. Completely off the mark.’</p><p> </p><p>‘You haven’t denied it.’ She’s on a streak for impulsive responses and she supposes she might as well find out what his stammering is all about.</p><p> </p><p>‘Right,’ he starts, his useless gesturing returns. However, this time, he’s blushing too. ‘If you want to crack on with Payne, go on. If you think he’ll put up with your awful taste in music and make you laugh and drive you home and get on with your family, then I won’t stop you.’</p><p> </p><p>As much as the air had been charged with <em>something </em>since they got into his car, the irritation she felt earlier seemed amplified and changed into… What? She was still trying to figure <em>that </em>out.</p><p> </p><p>‘Okay,’ she says, not quite sure if this was the response she expected. </p><p> </p><p>Then, more calmly, he explains, ‘I mean it, if that’s what you really want, I won’t interfere. Is that what you want?’</p><p> </p><p>It’s when he poses this question to her that she does figure out something that’s been plaguing her since Podrick sent his text. Podrick is a lovely boy with a lovely plan for her very first date… but she’s not sure if <em>want </em>was the word she would describe her feelings toward him. As Theon seems to anxiously wait for her response to this, she realizes what she’s been feeling all along.</p><p> </p><p>‘I might… not actually want… <em> him</em>,’ she admits, embarrassed. ‘But it was nice to have someone notice me the way he did.’</p><p> </p><p>Theon looks away again, hands back on the steering wheel, his thumbs digging into its leather sleeve. ‘People notice you, Sansa.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Don’t bring up your rugby team again.’</p><p> </p><p>‘I wasn’t,’ he turns to give her a look, one that actually looks like he’s trying his hardest to convey something. ‘You’re clever and you won’t let me forget it… and you’re kind and funny and… you know you’re beautiful. You’ve been told that dozens of times—’</p><p> </p><p>‘By my mum and gran,’ she offers shyly, feeling a warm flush in her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>‘Still… Just because you haven’t gotten to do any dating yet, it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.’ She interrupts him by asking if she’ll be as prolific in that department as he is, but he ignores her to continue, ‘I promise I’ll bugger off if <em> you </em> decide you found someone good and someone you <em> want </em>.’</p><p> </p><p>Not the first time today, she genuinely tells him, ‘Thanks, Theon.’</p><p> </p><p>‘At least one of us got what they wanted today,’ he chuckles lightly, his hands finally relaxing and letting go of the steering wheel.</p><p> </p><p>‘What—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Y’arite, you two?’ Comes a muffled voice at Sansa’s side of the car. Jon is rapping at her window. ‘You two have been down here for ages, what’s the matter?’</p><p> </p><p>As Theon lowers Sansa’s window, Jon winces at the sight of Theon’s face. ‘Fucking hell, Greyjoy. What happened to you?’</p><p> </p><p>Both Theon and Sansa exchange furtive looks, knowing there would be an inevitable way Jon would find out. </p><p> </p><p>‘Are you two going to spit it out or will I have to invite Theon in for dinner so dad will pry it out of him instead?’ he drawls. </p><p> </p><p>‘Joffrey smacked my arse. Theon smacked him down. Joffrey’s friends decided to gang up on Theon. Headmaster told all of us off. He might ring up dad and mum so they can tell me off again. I’m going to continue to dress the way I want for school. And if Joffrey decides to touch me again, I’m going to bray him myself.’ Sansa contemplates her explanation, ignoring the raised eyebrows of both boys, and then decides she’s satisfied with it.</p><p> </p><p>‘Well, kettle’s on and Catelyn’s just about to take out the roast for dinner.’ Jon poorly hides his amusement to add, ‘So, come in, Theon. If the headmaster rings us up during dinner, you might as well be here to defend yourself.’</p><p> </p><p>Jon accosts Theon as they reach the steps to the house, not bothering to look discreet about asking for the details of the fight, while she stays behind. Something about her conversation with Theon makes her want to fall back and mull over his words. His entire posture changing in various ways throughout their drive. His curiosity in Podrick. His calling her beautiful...</p><p> </p><p>What did she <em>want</em>? That’s the question on her mind again. Also… Why was she staring at the back of Theon’s neck like she was fascinated by it? If she stared hard enough, was she going to find the answers written all over him?</p><p> </p><p>‘I heard Theon handed Joffrey his arse.’ Arya has somehow materialized in front of her, bursting through her train of thought. </p><p> </p><p>Annoyed, she nudges her sister away from blocking her way to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>‘Why are you so red? Are you blushing?’ Arya asks.</p><p> </p><p>Sansa freezes, trying desperately not to look at Theon then. Schooling her features for her sister, she feigns innocence, ‘I’m not blushing.’</p><p> </p><p>Arya’s eyes narrow at her as if she’s poised to point something out, maybe a connection to this and Theon. She’s always been frighteningly good at reading Sansa’s mind.</p><p> </p><p>Then, just as Sansa starts getting used to all of the sudden jolts her heart’s been enduring today, Arya just shrugs and whispers so they won’t be heard by their siblings filtering into the kitchen or Theon settling into his seats at the dining table. ‘It’s a good thing Theon was there… It’s also a good thing Robb’s <em> not </em> here for whatever’s happening now.’</p><p> </p><p>Before she can deny this, Arya turns on the spot to jump into Jon and Theon’s space and conversation, laughing at Theon's animated reenactment of the fight. </p><p> </p><p>Normally, she’d join in and throw various scandalized looks his way. Neither happens. When she sits next to him, and when the roasted potatoes come along, she tries her best to neither look at her sister or cut in to grab a helping of her mother’s coveted dish. </p><p> </p><p>But, as if one cue, Theon offers, ‘Would you like some?’</p><p> </p><p>Without looking up, she feels rather than sees Arya and Theon’s eyes on her.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Are you flirting with me? You noticed? (Robbaery)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Therapist!Margaery (aka Thirsty!Margaery in this fic) and Handyman!Robb here for your guilty pleasure tropes. Both come from broken relationships/traumas and find some common ground from them. That and smut ensues.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>Prompt: “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”<br/>Pairing: Robbaery<br/>Word Count: 5720</strong>
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  <strong>Rating: E, for smut and swearing.</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>This time, Robb’s fixing the sink in her upstairs bathroom, and, if Margaery’s timed it properly, he’d be done as soon as she finishes her notes on her last client. Since his first three jobs, she’s gotten better at understanding the rhythm of his work, attributing each bump and drag across her floors to a part of her house he was repairing. She also knew his routine at the end of a job, lingering around her kitchen, helping himself to the prepared water pitcher and glassware she would leave out for him. If he had other engagements for the rest of the day, he never made it known. </p><p> </p><p>‘Properly quenched?’ Margaery asks, catching him right on time in her kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>‘Aye,’ he replies into his glass, taking his last swig.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing him cleaning the glass and placing it in her drying rack, making himself as comfortable as he looks in her home, thrills her. Just as much as seeing his collared shirt opened at the top of his chest, a sheen of sweat at the edge of where his chest hair starts. Just as much as seeing his sleeves gathered up to show more of his toned arms. </p><p> </p><p>His left arm has her eyes lingering at a tattoo at the top of his forearm, peeking out of his sleeve. When she lifts her gaze to ask about it, she smiles to find that he’s been eyeing her too. ‘Is that—’</p><p> </p><p>‘My family crest. When my father passed away, I thought it would be a nice reminder,’ he explains, showing more of the tattoo’s intricate design. He points to the wolf within the crest. ‘He always had a fable ready about enduring and taking care of our pack.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Handy. Considerate. And your tattoo means… traditional.’</p><p> </p><p>He laughs at that, ‘I’m not one of your clients, Margaery. Spare me the psychoanalysis.’ </p><p> </p><p>‘That was hardly an observation,’ she says, quirking one side of her mouth to the side. Even if she didn’t let on much about her work, she suspects that he has seen her credentials framed up on the walls of the home office that he’s done repairs in and made his own assumptions. He might have even overhead some of her clients visiting for their sessions in her office. She wonders if she’s made him nervous. ‘Anyone can make observations, even you can. Try me, for instance. Go on…’</p><p> </p><p>A glint in his blue eyes surprises her as he says, ‘I think some of these <em> repairs </em> in your home haven’t been… breaking down on their own.’ </p><p> </p><p>Heat rises instantly from the back of her neck to her cheeks. She’s not heard him go beyond his usual pleasantries and nondescript comments on his weekend plans when she’s asked about them, but this accusation <em> throws </em> her. Throws her enough to make her bite the inside of her cheek and actually try to rack her brains for a neutral response.</p><p> </p><p>Because he was right. </p><p> </p><p>She could commit to appear coy, as she’s tried to whenever she found an excuse to check in on any of his jobs, wandering in with clothing that could pass off as loungewear but didn’t leave much to the imagination either, though she decides against it. ‘You’ve caught me… but, knowing that, you’ve come every time.’</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat, staring at her with surprising heat behind his eyes. ‘Aye,’ he admits.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the space between them is all she can focus on while they stare at each other from his spot by her sink and where she leans against her kitchen counter. If she stretches one arm out, she could reach him. If she were more impulsive, she’d push herself off the counter to close this distance between them. From his admission alone, with his eyes still fixed on her, wouldn’t that be something he’d want? All the stolen glances they’ve caught each other taking, all the ways he’s been adorably flustered at her <em> accidental </em> touches, and the way he’s flushing now… it <em> must </em> mean he wants this.</p><p> </p><p>‘Robb…’ She takes a moment to think about the opportunity before her. Since separating with her fiancé months ago, she’s enjoyed her time on her own, but that hasn't stopped her from completely shutting herself off from certain needs. Finally, with Robb catching on to her, these needs are even more apparent. ‘Are we going to do <em> this </em>?’</p><p> </p><p>He flushes deeper at her insinuation and the way she gestures between them, even the skin under his ginger stubble reddens. He could be undressing her with his eyes with the way he stares after her, though this could be her own imagination running wild as she’s been accustomed to undressing him in her mind since first meeting him.</p><p> </p><p>‘From the way you’re gripping your tool belt, I’d suspect you either fear it falling off your waist or… you’re holding back on something you’d like to tell me.’</p><p> </p><p>‘If I ask you to stop treating me like one of your clients, you’d probably ignore me, wouldn’t you?’ he asks, shaking his head. </p><p> </p><p>As if she can’t help herself, with his endearing flush spreading to the tips of his ears, she continues, ‘You want this as much as I do, Robb. The large van on my driveway seems lived-in, like you’re used to working all hours… like you’re married to your work when you should be trying to find a different way to work out your frustrations. Yes, other than the sexual one we have to work through together,’—He gives her a surprised laugh at this while she continues—‘you have other ones. I can tell this from the way you tend to use a heavy hand with some of your tools around my house. Then there’s the tan line around your left ring finger. It means you’ve recently divorced and intend on moving on.’</p><p> </p><p>His amusement slowly sobers at her last words, admitting, ‘Ah, mostly correct, Dr. Tyrell.’</p><p> </p><p>‘What did I get wrong?’ She’s genuinely curious.</p><p> </p><p>‘Well, I <em> have </em> taken off my wedding ring recently… but I’m widowed. It’s been a year now, and although it wasn’t a perfect marriage because we got together when we were much too young, I haven’t found the urge to move on too quickly. Not when I’ve been content and grateful for Lucia… my daughter.’ He doesn’t sound the least bit vindictive when he explains this, and he even adds, ‘I think you two would get on…’</p><p> </p><p>‘Ah…’ She knows she sounds dumbfounded as she feels. Her other witty words are caught in her throat and she feels herself retreating inward. </p><p> </p><p>But, regardless of him not laughing along with her anymore, he’s still standing before her, not rushing out. Maybe, he’s not put off by her bold claims. At least, she hopes he’s not. </p><p> </p><p>‘What I’m trying to say is… I haven’t had a reason to move on… until now.’ Not only is he not rushing out, but he also makes steps toward her. ‘I’ve been wondering, you know—Is she?—Well, for weeks now, I’ve wanted to ask, ‘Are you flirting with me?’’</p><p> </p><p>‘You finally noticed? So, I haven’t been wearing silk robes and trying to catch your eye around my house in vain,’ she says, feeling herself smirking again. Of course, she thinks, other than his first cheeky remark, he didn’t seem to be the type of man to impose himself on a woman.</p><p> </p><p>‘I have noticed. You’d be hard to miss… anywhere.’ He’s close now. And now all she can think to do is impose herself on him. He continues, ‘Margaery, would you want—’</p><p> </p><p>Of course, she does. </p><p> </p><p>She raises herself on tiptoe and presses her lips against his. Fortunately, after his initial shock, he invites her kiss, cupping each side of her face. He follows her lead with each swipe of her tongue coaxing his mouth to open wider and each nip at his lips urging him to come closer. It’s as if he’s waiting for her approval.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em> Ah </em>,’ he gasps at a particularly hard bite she takes at his bottom lip. It seems to spur him on as his hands grip at her waist, pulling her closer, their hips flush against each other. He even grinds against her, allowing her to feel how hard she’s making him. </p><p> </p><p>‘Bedroom,’ she takes a moment to pull away from him to say, lips tingling. ‘Down the corridor.’</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t wait for him to respond, and, as if she were in a daze, she pulls him along, not quite registering anything but the path toward her bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>‘Margaery—let me—I can put this down first.’ She vaguely hears him say but doesn’t ask for him to clarify, too focused on not distracting themselves or distracting herself from getting what she wants. From what she <em> needs </em>.</p><p> </p><p>At some point, she hears something clatter near her. It’s only until she turns to face him that she sees that they’ve finally made it inside her bedroom and that his tool belt is at her feet. His work boots lay behind him too.</p><p> </p><p>‘It was in the way,’ he explains. </p><p> </p><p>‘Not anymore,’ she says, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip in anticipation.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, he continues to be assertive. His arm slips around her waist while his free hand brings her chin up, prompting her to once again lift herself on tiptoe so he can kiss her. This time, he guides her mouth to open for him, his tongue sweeping across hers. This kiss, and his building confidence, causes a shiver along her spine.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands splay across his chest and it occurs to her that she’s only imagined him shirtless. Now, she finally confirms her suspicions of the hard muscle beneath his work jackets and collared shirts. </p><p> </p><p>‘Something amusing you about me again?’ He breaks off from their kissing to ask, breathing heavily.</p><p> </p><p>She realizes that she’s smiling. ‘Only that it’s taken me this long to bring you in here and that I should’ve commissioned you to fix something in here sooner to expedite the process.’ </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t laugh at her joking this time, following her as she sits and moves to the center of her bed. Whatever she had stirred in him to make him this determined has clearly affected him. In no time, he has her falling on her back as he hovers over her, his knees straddling her waist. </p><p> </p><p>Another spike of anticipation pricks at her as she watches him unbutton and remove his shirt. </p><p> </p><p><em> Fucking fit </em>, she thinks, watching the rapid rise and fall of his bare chest. </p><p> </p><p>Then, he helps her out of her blouse, a delicate thing that she couldn’t give a single thought toward removing with care. All she cared to do was watch his eyes roam over her body. Under his stare, her bare skin prickles in the air and she relishes in his surprise in finding that she’s not been wearing a bra all along. </p><p> </p><p>His gulping is visible before he reverently admits, ‘You’re gorgeous.’</p><p> </p><p>‘You’ve not seen the rest of me yet,’ she tries to quip again, but then she goes quiet from his persistent, assured actions, his warm hands sliding up from the underside of her ribs to cup at her breasts. </p><p> </p><p>She suspects he wills himself to stop staring at them when he finally comes down to place his mouth over each of her nipples at a time, kneading, licking and sucking until they pebble from his ministrations. </p><p> </p><p>Heated from his roaming hands and his eager mouth, she brings a hand up to palm his hard cock through his trousers. It frustrates her that they’ve still not shed all their clothing.</p><p> </p><p>‘Robb—too many layers,’ she says, her fingers hooking at his belt loops for emphasis. ‘Need them gone.’</p><p> </p><p>He lifts his head from where it was starting to trail kisses down her belly, and he smiles. She does too, finding momentary amusement at some of his ginger curls sticking out. She must have been tugging at them.</p><p> </p><p>‘Let me help you first,’ he offers, his fingers play at the hem of her long skirt. As he pulls it down, her impatience grows and she takes her knickers down too. They both fall in a heap on her floor.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes have something else to drink in as he repositions them. Without tearing his gaze away from her, his hands hook under her knees while he kneels in front of her, unzipping his trousers. </p><p> </p><p>‘C’mere,’ she says, amused again, watching him struggling to pull off his trousers while trying to stay balanced between her legs. She gladly sits up to help him extricate himself from his trousers as they catch near his ankles. And before he falls forward, her hands rest over the waistband of his boxer briefs. Her smile fades, giving way to try an enticing look. ‘Touch me, Robb,’ she tells him quietly.</p><p> </p><p>He guides her back down, his fingers following her as she falls on her back. He finds her center, tentatively circling at her clit. ‘Here?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Yes,’ she breathes, squeezing her eyes shut as he thumbs her there and brings two fingers to circle at her entrance. ‘Go on,’ she urges him.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Oh</em>,’ he groans when he sinks a single finger inside her first. When she peels her eyes open, she sees the satisfaction in his eyes to find her wet. Another finger joins in tandem to pump inside her. Once. Twice. Again and again. </p><p> </p><p>She arches in time to his thrusting, moaning. </p><p> </p><p>‘<em> Gods </em>, Margaery. You’re soaked.’ </p><p> </p><p>One hand flies up to his boxer briefs, palming him again. ‘Why isn’t this off yet?’ </p><p> </p><p>She’s not proud of the whine she lets slip out when his fingers leave her, but, before she can protest, he finally removes his last layer of clothing and his flushed cock springs forward into his grasp. </p><p> </p><p>He starts to ask, ‘Do you have—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Oh, of course.’ She shakes herself from staring, clearing her throat. She turns on her side, reaching for her side table. Inside its drawer, her hand gropes blindly for a condom and she nearly triumphs to find one… except it’s attached to several more, all of them unfolding from their perforated edges.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t say a word, still kneeling before her. But she can’t help herself, so she explains, ‘It was my ex’s collection, something I didn’t know he had until I caught him...’ </p><p> </p><p>He looks nonplussed as he bends and reaches over to her hand, helping her tear one off and shutting the rest away. ‘As I’ve said before, it’s been some time for me. I’m certain it’s been longer than you’ve had to wait. I don’t mind how we’ve gotten to this point, if you don’t.’</p><p> </p><p>She pulls him into a languid kiss in response, wondering if he knows what he’s doing to her. If he knows how much she’s aching for him. ‘I don’t mind at all,’ she says, pulling away to trace a thumb across his bottom lip. </p><p> </p><p>She grins excitedly as she pushes him back to his original kneeling position, wrapping her legs around his waist. As she cleanly tears the wrapper from the condom, single-handedly positioning the condom in place, he appears bemused.</p><p> </p><p>‘Does everything come so effortlessly to you?’ he asks, surprising her.</p><p> </p><p>She cocks one brow up. ‘You think so?’ she asks.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Everything</em>,’ he groans as she rolls the condom over him. She strokes him, pleased with the way she coaxes out more rumbling from the back of his throat. </p><p> </p><p>With her hand still firmly in place, she pulls him forward. ‘Fuck me,’ she tells him, her free hand squeezes at his thigh. </p><p> </p><p>As he lets her guide him, his fingers thread through her hair as he kisses her again. She can feel his hot breath running ragged when he pulls back just in time to see that he’s nudging at her entrance. </p><p> </p><p>Slow, relentless, and making her gape silently, his cock finally sinks into her.</p><p> </p><p>‘Marge—’ He cuts himself off as she fully engulfs him, and he trails open mouth kisses along her jaw. ‘You feel incredible.’</p><p> </p><p>It does feel <em> fucking </em> incredible, bucking her hips up to meet his. Feeling full. Feeling the mattress below her dip each time he thrusts forward. Warm, writhing under his weight, she realizes she hasn’t felt this way in a long time. It might be her dizzying pleasure, but she wonders if she’s <em> ever </em> felt this good before. </p><p> </p><p>She knew Joffrey to be adequate enough to satisfy her when they first met. Though adequate was a generous term for someone who had only ever left her wet and keening for her own hand to help her reach an orgasm. And she’s known the thrill and inevitable disillusionment with other men she’s slept with. But Robb, with his insistence to give as much as he takes, was already poised to be a different kind of lover. </p><p> </p><p>One-time lover? If she was enjoying herself, wouldn’t she want to see him again? Was she thinking of a long term situation with him? </p><p> </p><p>As their rhythm becomes frenzied, their hips snapping against each other, skin slick from their exertion, she can’t hold back the helpless sounds she makes. Or the fever pitch she’s reaching. </p><p> </p><p>‘I’m gonna—I’m close—’ </p><p> </p><p>‘<em> Seven hells </em>—I’m close behind.’ </p><p> </p><p>He comes undone first, groaning deeply, pulsing within her. It’s feeling him finish, still buried inside her, that tempts her own release. </p><p> </p><p>Naturally, he slows down by a fraction, but he doesn’t let go. While one arm allows him to balance himself and hover over her, a free hand grasps at her hip and then slots between them, where they’re pressed together. As he continues to thrust into her, his fingers rub at her sensitive, little knot. </p><p> </p><p>‘Ah—<em> ah </em> — <em> ah </em> — <em> fuck </em>,’ she cries, the spring coiled tightly in the pit of her stomach finally unfurls as she comes. </p><p> </p><p>With some effort, he raises himself on two propped up arms and pulls out of her. The act of this has never been a graceful one and he’s no exception here. However, watching him lie on his back, panting and grinning as if he were in disbelief, endears her to him. </p><p> </p><p>‘Did you really not think that I’ve been flirting with you?’ she asks, raking back some of her hair clinging to her forehead. </p><p> </p><p>He raises a finger and apologizes, ‘Hold that thought, love.’ </p><p> </p><p>She giggles as he sits up, trying his best to cover up the condom she realizes he wants to get rid of before they start any conversations. </p><p> </p><p>‘You know where to go,’ she calls after him as he leaves her bed, gesturing to the en-suite bathroom that he had just finished repairs in. </p><p> </p><p>She hears her faucet running and heaves a delighted sigh. Though not too long after her racing heartbeat subsides, she falls back to her pre-orgasm panic. No, not panic… maybe… concern… Lover? Long term? Would she be asking him back? </p><p> </p><p><em> Not panicking </em>, she tells herself. </p><p> </p><p>‘Y’arite, Margaery?’ He’s at her side without her realizing, towelling himself off.</p><p> </p><p>She turns to him, bringing the bedsheets over her, covering her from the waist down. ‘Fine, darling,’ she tries to affect a calm tone, twisting her long hair into a loose plait to one side.</p><p> </p><p>He climbs back into bed, pulling the bedsheets over him too, another bemused smile spreads his lips. She wonders if all his smiles have looked this curious. Was he always trying to work out what she was thinking? Does he wonder that deeply about her? </p><p> </p><p>‘Well,’ he starts, leaving his concern aside for now, ‘to answer your question... I’ve never been with a woman like you. Before I saw the faucet that you impressively pulled out of your sink, I didn’t want to presume.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Ha!’ She laughs. ‘Yes, well, now you know how much I needed your <em> services </em>.’</p><p> </p><p>He wrinkles the bridge of his nose at that, laughing softly along with her. ‘I know this looks rather sudden… but I want you to know that this isn’t how I am normally. I don’t go door to door fixing people’s plumbing and—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Fucking them?’ She offers, trying to restrain a sly smile.</p><p> </p><p>‘Right.’</p><p> </p><p>‘I’ve never fucked any of my clients or anyone I’ve hired either. We’re both professionals. That settles it.’ </p><p> </p><p>He’s searching her face again, wearing another slight smile. He is definitely trying to work her out like she’s a puzzle. This time, though, she senses something more serious on his mind. </p><p> </p><p>‘So… since we’ve established that we’ve both made an exception to our ethics, I have to admit that I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe try seeing each other outside…’ he suggests with an expectant gaze, ‘with our clothes on.’</p><p> </p><p>‘But it’s so much more fun without them,’ she teases, leaning in to kiss him. </p><p> </p><p>He chuckles just before she takes her mouth off him. ‘Margaery… I’d like to see you again.’</p><p> </p><p><em> Panic </em> . That <em> is </em> the feeling she feels, she concludes. ‘I—Robb, I’m not sure that's a good idea.’ As she explains herself, she notices his face slowly falling. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve given you the wrong impression about what <em> this </em> was.’ </p><p> </p><p>‘Oh,’ he says, turning away from her to stare across her bedroom. The wrinkle between his eyes furrows.</p><p> </p><p>‘I’m so sorry,’ she earnestly says, bringing her bedsheets higher to cover her chest. </p><p> </p><p>‘No need to be sorry,’ he assures her. ‘I think I should say sorry for… presuming.’</p><p> </p><p>He moves faster than she can respond, peeling the covers off him so he can start picking up his discarded clothing. </p><p> </p><p>‘You don’t have to—’</p><p> </p><p>‘I’ll go,’ he says without a trace of unkindness, resolutely keeping his eyes on everything else but her.</p><p> </p><p>‘Robb…’ She trails off, watching him hop in place to put on his briefs and trousers. </p><p> </p><p>Then, as she helps him collect his shirt, he waves off any concerns. ‘I shouldn’t be staying too long anyway. I’ll be missed at dinner. Lucia will have texted me at least a dozen times by now.’</p><p> </p><p>A twinge twists in her chest as she watches him making quick work of leaving. It twists further as she clothes herself with a robe, and, as she follows him down the corridor to her front door, the twinge blooms across her chest. ‘<em> Robb </em>,’ she tries again, holding the door open for him as he tries to tie his tool belt around his waist. </p><p> </p><p>‘Impulsive,’ he says suddenly, gently smiling at her after his belt is tightly fastened.</p><p> </p><p>‘Sorry?’ </p><p> </p><p>‘You left that out of your observations,’ he explains. ‘I can be impulsive sometimes. My daughter thinks it’s a character flaw of mine. She thinks it gets me into trouble when I—when I think with my—when I don’t prioritize head over…’</p><p> </p><p>His hands hover over his chest for a moment, seemingly a mistake as he lets them drop as fast as he brought them up. </p><p> </p><p>For a moment, she weighs another witty response, but, as his frown returns, she pulls back. Instead, she replies, ‘Lucia seems like a clever girl.’</p><p> </p><p>He ducks his head, nodding. </p><p> </p><p>The uncomfortable tightness in her chest doesn’t fade until long after he’s gone. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She’s screwed herself over. That’s her belated thought.</p><p> </p><p>As the water leaks, gushing out of the pipe from under the kitchen sink, an actual repair issue she didn’t cause, she wonders what to do.</p><p> </p><p>Robb, to her annoyance, didn’t give her a chance to explain the situation, taking it so far as sounding disbelieving during their phone call earlier. ‘I can’t, Margaery. I’m sorry, I’m on another job,’ he had said.</p><p> </p><p>She knew what that meant. He <em> can’t </em> come back to face her or the reminder of her rejection. He <em> can’t </em> be her handyman who she fucks whenever she pleases. </p><p> </p><p>So, when the doorbell trills behind her, she startles. She only just called a local plumber and she wasn’t expecting him for another half hour. She hoped to the Gods it wasn’t a client she forgot was scheduled today. </p><p> </p><p>‘Oh,’ she says instead of greeting the stranger she opens the door to. Something about the shape of his eyes and the way he holds himself seems familiar. But she pushes that thought away to assume that this was her alternate plumber. ‘That was quick.’</p><p> </p><p>The man, who couldn’t be much older than herself, pushes back tendrils of his curly, dark hair so it’s all slicked back into his low bun. His dark eyes, set in a serious face, looking expectant. And when she remains silent, he introduces himself, ‘Erm… I’m Jon, Ms. Tyrell. Robb sent me to help. He told me to make sure there wasn’t anything broken in your house.’</p><p> </p><p>‘There is,’ she exasperates, motioning for him to come in. ‘My kitchen will be flooded by the time we finish standing by my door.’</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t seem bothered by her tone as he makes his way into her kitchen. And as he takes the bucket of leaking water from under her sink to investigate for repairs, she hovers over him.</p><p> </p><p>She should cancel the other handyman, she thinks as she moves her phone from one hand to the other. She should also ring up Robb, if only he’d stay on the line long enough…</p><p> </p><p>Jon pops his head out from under the sink to say, ‘It's really not a massive job, Ms. Tyrell. If you’re wondering what I’m doing, I’m just replacing a part of the piping here. I—erm—I’m just not used to clients… lingering. Did you have questions?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Oh,’ she says, gripping at her phone tightly. ‘I’m not trying to bother you. It’s just—you being here—it was unexpected.’</p><p> </p><p>‘You’re not wrong there. I was meant to have a day off, but I owe my brother one.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Brother…’ Their resemblance dawns on her. </p><p> </p><p>‘Aye,’ he says, going back to work, stopping the water from leaking from her faulty pipes with a twist and turn from one of the tools he’s taken out of his tool belt. ‘He was a bit pushy about me rushing over here too. You must be special if you can get my brother heated about indoor plumbing.’ </p><p> </p><p>She forces a neutral expression. ‘Heated?’</p><p> </p><p>‘If you knew him, you’d know that he’s usually… erm…’ he stops himself, appearing to be self-conscious. ‘I’m sorry you don’t need to know anything about that. I should get back to work.’</p><p> </p><p>She leans back on her counter, crossing her arms and watching him rifle through his toolbox. ‘I have a question,’ she persists even as he looks ready to start fitting her new pipe in. ‘About… a renovation Robb did for me. I wasn’t satisfied with the way we ended our conversation... about the commissioned work.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Oh,’ he starts, scratching the back of his head. ‘I could take a look and—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Oh no, you see, it was something he and I were discussing and I…’ She frustrates over the way she’s struggling to continue. </p><p> </p><p>She’s not sure when <em> this </em> happened. The day after Robb left? The week after she last called him? Now that Jon’s before her and puzzling over her inability to form a coherent sentence? </p><p> </p><p><em> This </em> is her persistent, conflicted thoughts on Robb. If he were here, she’s sure she could work them out. He just needed to be here. Not just fixing the kitchen sink. And not just in her bed. </p><p> </p><p>‘Erm… could you ring him up?’</p><p> </p><p>‘He seems to be busy at the moment.’ </p><p> </p><p>‘Ah,’ he sighs, fiddling with the metal pipe he was meant to exchange for the faulty one. </p><p> </p><p>She continues to probe him for advice. ‘If Robb wasn’t inclined to accept any new requests for renovations because we previously didn’t see eye to eye on what my house needed, how would I go about changing his mind?’</p><p> </p><p>He crosses his arms, tapping the pipe on the side of his elbow, considering her. ‘Well, from what I know, you’ve had a few issues resolved in your home before. You must’ve worked well together on those projects. Couldn’t you work this one out?’ </p><p> </p><p>‘We might if I can get through to him.’</p><p> </p><p>‘I think he’s working on our mum’s friend’s bathroom reno. I’m sure if you ring him up later on tonight—’</p><p> </p><p>‘What if—’</p><p> </p><p>‘The line’s engaged? Doubt it. He never takes client calls at night. Lucia—his daughter—has a rule about mobiles at dinner or when he’s supposed to be helping her with her homework. I think she’s trying to take some secondary school aptitude test.’</p><p> </p><p>She frowns. ‘Why would he take my call then?’</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs, a ghost of a smile flits across his features before he tells her, ‘He wouldn’t risk our family business’ reputation if a regular client was upset. And it seems like this is something very important to you. Something that seems more pressing than your bursting pipes here.’</p><p> </p><p>She flushes at that but evenly replies, ‘It’s just—I don’t like unresolved <em> projects </em> . If he could just hear me out instead of prejudging everything I say, I’d be happy. If he didn’t just shut down the idea of us <em> working </em> together…’</p><p> </p><p>He coughs into his fist. ‘We are still talking about a home project… right? Ms. Tyrell?’</p><p> </p><p>‘Of course,’ she says, shaking her head. Then, she gestures with a waving hand to forget about their conversation, ‘I’m sorry. I’m going to be in my office down that corridor if you need me. You can carry on.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Well,’ he calls after her, just as she attempts to turn on her heel. ‘If you really wanted to get Robb’s attention, for whatever reason, he’s always been the type to respect a face-to-face conversation.’</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t miss another faint smile he tries to hide when he ducks his head, starting work underneath her sink again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She feels like a bloody teenager.</p><p> </p><p>As she knocks on Robb’s front door for the second time, she hopes it’s his. Since Jon gave her his address the night before, her dreams have been filled with cringe-worthy scenarios of other people answering the door. Among them, Joffrey scoffs at her attempts to explain herself. </p><p> </p><p>She starts to shift uncomfortably in her collared, long dress, something that she found at the bottom of her closet. It looked… appropriate, just in case someone else was to open the door. Specifically, she’d hate to leave a bad impression with Lucia. </p><p> </p><p>‘Are you looking for Robb?’ Someone startles her from behind. </p><p> </p><p>'Erm, yes.'</p><p> </p><p>A pretty, tall woman greets her. Her long, ginger hair reminds her of Robb’s. She shifts the bags of groceries in her hands and then extends a free one. ‘I’m Robb’s sister, Sansa.’</p><p> </p><p>They shake hands and Margaery introduces herself as well. She also adds, ‘I—I can come back another time. He doesn’t seem to be answering.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Nonsense. Robb always has music blaring around the house, I’m sure you just need to be forceful.’ Sansa begins pounding the door, hollering to get his attention. </p><p> </p><p>When Sansa decides to stop, she gives Margaery a sideways glance. Something about the way she curls her bottom lip backward, biting at it, gives Margaery the impression that she’s extremely curious about her presence. ‘You know, if you’re here for Robb… I should probably warn you… he’s an awful cook. If he’s invited you over for dinner, please just take it as a compliment and then offer your favourite restaurant for your next… <em> dinner </em>.’</p><p> </p><p>Margaery flushes in time to the door opening on both of them. Robb’s short curls look darker and damp as if he’s only just dressed after a shower. His eyes flit between both of them, stunned.</p><p> </p><p>‘Thank you very much for making us wait for ages,’ Sansa says.</p><p> </p><p>Then, Sansa moves next to him, whispering in her brother’s ear, making him blush too.</p><p> </p><p>He also winces as Sansa, still very much close to her brother’s ear, yells, ‘Lucia, help your favourite aunt with her shopping, will you? Lucia’s out in the back garden, isn’t she?’</p><p> </p><p>After Sansa vanishes around the corner behind him, Margaery sighs. ‘I came to talk.’</p><p> </p><p>‘How did you find out where I live?’ He still seems surprised by her being at his doorstep. </p><p> </p><p>‘Jon,’ she admits.</p><p> </p><p>‘Ah,’ he says, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. </p><p> </p><p>‘So, I—’ ‘Well, if you—’ they interrupt each other in unison.</p><p> </p><p>‘Sorry, you were saying,’ he concedes. </p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, she starts over. ‘I haven’t been intimate with anyone since my fiancé for almost half a year now. You don’t need to know all the ugly details of that split, but I will tell you that I was devastated to estrange myself from his family, particularly his two younger siblings. Sweet children… I still miss them terribly. When you told me about your daughter, I think I panicked, thinking of what it would mean to get involved again. I wouldn’t want to start anything I wasn’t sure of.’</p><p> </p><p>Robb crosses his arms, considering her. He replies, ‘I understand all of that. It’s just—you can never be sure of these things.’</p><p> </p><p>‘I know,’ she says, nodding. ‘That’s why, if you still want to get to know me, we shouldn’t rush things.’</p><p> </p><p>‘More than we have already,’ he smiles as he says this, half-ashamed, half-amused. </p><p> </p><p>Her laughter comes out delayed, and she tries to stifle it with her hand.</p><p> </p><p>‘I’m sorry—’</p><p> </p><p>‘I like you, Robb.’ She is a <em> bloody </em> teenager. </p><p> </p><p>‘I like you too,’ he says with a wide, boyish grin.</p><p> </p><p>‘But I’m not coming in for dinner yet,’ she has to clarify. ‘Instead, I’d like to go out for dinner this weekend. We can get to know one another then.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Sansa’s warned you about my cooking, hasn’t she?’ He rolls his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. ‘I’ll have you know, I’ve been successful on more than one occasion with a decent ziti dish and—’</p><p> </p><p>Without preamble, she moves to press herself against him, her lips capturing his surprised mouth. And she kisses him more fully as his hands clutch at her waist. </p><p> </p><p>‘You’re not very encouraging of taking things slowly,’ he says once he comes up for air. </p><p> </p><p>‘We’ve kind of blown past physically getting to know one another. Even as I slowly make my way into your house, one of these days, there’s no reason for us to take <em> this </em> slowly.’ </p><p> </p><p>‘I wasn’t complaining,’ he says, mirroring the way she smirks at him. </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Are we on a date right now? (Theonsa)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Catch the Gossip Girl reference? Also, here’s another high school AU for <a href="%E2%80%9C">Theonsa Challenge</a> - August - Get Schooled. To request a prompt to be filled, please visit my <a>tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>Prompt: ‘Are we on a date right now?’</strong>
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  <strong>Pairing: Theonsa</strong>
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  <strong>Words: 1319</strong>
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  <strong>Rating: T, for some offensive language</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>‘Don’t,’ Sansa says through gritted teeth. </p><p> </p><p>‘I didn’t say anything,’ Theon scoffs, raising his hands up. </p><p> </p><p>‘I can hear you judging me. It’s annoying.’</p><p> </p><p>She looks like she’s unravelling. It’s a strange sight. Not just because Sansa epitomizes the typical upper-crust of high school society with her bon mot tossing, label whoring, vapid, girly habits, but also because she’s seldom caught being anything less than this. So, as Theon watches her nervously chew at her pink-lacquered, bottom lip and compulsively flit her eyes around her surroundings, he realizes that something must be wrong.</p><p> </p><p>‘I—I don’t want to leave yet.’ She seems determined, not budging from her seat of the ice cream parlour’s booth table. </p><p> </p><p>When he takes a seat across from her, she gives him a sideways glance. ‘At least, you’re here and not Robb.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Ah,’ he snickers, vaguely connecting the dots to what could be upsetting her. ‘So, there is a reason why you called me instead of Robb.’</p><p> </p><p>She heaves a sigh, ‘Yes. Now, will you <em> leave </em> it?’</p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes. ‘Leave it? I don’t even know what I’m doing here. How can I even start to tease you?’</p><p> </p><p>He could tease her though. It’s what he’s used to. At least, that’s what he’s done for the better half of his childhood. He could only count one year of his decade-long friendship with Robb, some time during his sixth year and her fifth at school, when he was more hesitant to do so. </p><p> </p><p>He still remembers the way she had dragged him to the center of their school’s PE hall. There was some languid song she was droning on and on about, her <em> ‘absolute favourite’ </em>. And he still remembers the way his jumper smelled of her that night… right where she had placed her head as they swayed in time to the music. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t danced with her since then (since Robb had given him a hard time about giving in to his little sister’s demands), but he always knew this side of her. She was always prone to a bit of romance or the idea of it anyway. So, wondering if what was troubling her had anything to do with this side her, he starts tentatively, ‘Sans... I have a question…’</p><p> </p><p>‘Forget it, Theo—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Banana Split or Cookie Dough Ice Cream Sandwich?’ He picks up the menu from the table and brandishes the options in front of her. </p><p> </p><p>‘I—’ She looks as though she’s about to reject this offer, but then she relents, ‘Go on then. Order us the Banana Split.’</p><p> </p><p>‘We’re getting two. I’m not sharing with someone with <em> your </em> appetite,’ he says as he flags down a nearby waitress.</p><p> </p><p>‘No, you really shouldn’t,’ she tries to stop him as he makes their order. </p><p> </p><p>‘Make sure this one gets extra cherries or she’ll hound you for them later,’ he calls after the waitress leaves, winking when she looks back. He feels rather than sees Sansa’s glaring. </p><p> </p><p>By the time Theon leaves and comes back to their booth, with napkins and an extra spoon that was forgotten with their order, her mood is still palpably tense. And it’s not helped by the pair of vaguely familiar girls giggling at the back of the ice cream parlour. Nothing about their laughter seems innocent in the least, and the return of Sansa’s nervous tick of biting at her bottom lip is very telling of that.</p><p> </p><p>‘Aren’t those your—’</p><p> </p><p>‘I’m not friends with those <em> cows</em>,’ she seethes as the girls promptly stop giggling and turn their backs to them. ‘I might as well tell you that Joffrey stood me up today, just when I thought he’d ask me to... forget it.’</p><p> </p><p>The prick. The prick with the entitlement of some sort of—a right <em> royal </em> prick. He only knew of Joffrey from Robb’s run-ins with him at school, making Robb’s absence here a legitimately good idea. But he didn’t know Joffrey had anything to do with Sansa until now. </p><p> </p><p>He mentally takes a breath, reminding himself that he’s taken her brother’s place for a reason. Finally, he tells her, ‘It’s forgotten.’</p><p> </p><p>She’s mildly surprised by this, wondering, ‘Really?’</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Really</em>,’ he assures her while he starts scooping up a good portion of banana and ice cream from his dish. Then, ‘But it depends.’</p><p> </p><p>‘On?’ She impatiently taps a fingernail against her own dish, watching him mouth a spoonful of his vanilla ice cream.</p><p> </p><p>‘If you forget about dating him, everything will be as good as forgotten,’ he says this as if it settles the matter.</p><p> </p><p>It does. For now. Even if she looks ready to protest, she doesn’t bring up any faults to this deal. Instead, humorously, she starts on his hair as if she were burning to tell him all along, calling it shaggy and unkempt. He tells her it’s rakish and extremely appealing according to the girls in her year. Her disgruntled silence settles this matter too. </p><p> </p><p>At some point, he makes note of the fact that the girls who were causing her so much distress before have gone and she hasn’t even noticed this. She even changes subjects multiple times, probing him about his chances of interning with Robb and Jon at her father’s firm once he graduates in a few months or his prospects for university. It makes him wonder if this means he’s done a good job of cheering her up. He thinks to boast about this but, instead, he asks, ‘You want to get out of here? I assume you wanted me to take you home… I mean, I’d understand if you want to be with your family or ring up Jeyne or—’ </p><p> </p><p>She pulls a face then. ‘I am <em> not </em> leaving with you if you’ve got—you’ve got—’</p><p> </p><p>‘What?’ He watches her gesture at the side of her mouth, and he eventually understands what she means for him to do. </p><p> </p><p>‘No, no not there.’ </p><p> </p><p>He takes the napkin by his dish and starts to make a big show of wiping down every inch of his face but the spot she had pointed out. </p><p> </p><p>To his delight, she laughs at him, ‘You are the <em> worst</em>.’ </p><p> </p><p>‘Here? Over here? <em> Here</em>?’ He persists with his antics, doubling his efforts to re-wipe the same spots, hoping to hear more of her laughter. </p><p> </p><p>‘Stop,’ she says, lunging for his hand, grasping at the napkin as it lands by the very stop she intended for him to find. She has him in her grip and he doesn’t move an inch. Then, with the utmost care, she gently swipes the napkin by his mouth, cleaning the ice cream off of him. </p><p> </p><p>The delicate way she handles him surprises him, so much so that he doesn’t think before he quips, ‘Are we on a date right now?’  </p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Stop</em>,’ she says, blushing and taking her hand back.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t get her to laugh again but it seems like he’s effectively squashed any of her lingering thoughts about Joffrey and shifted her thinking into <em>this</em>...</p><p> </p><p>He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit thinking about <em> this</em>. This happens to be about the quiet moments they share from time to time, like accepting how awkward it is to touch each other. They let the moment happen but never speak about it. If it were Arya, he’d sooner invite a glare or a punch in the face to diffuse the tension. Somehow, it’s harder to tell what he’d expect from Sansa.</p><p> </p><p>This was also the fact that sometimes, when he forgets that she’d be the death of him by either Robb’s hands or by the weight of how many differences there are between them, he thinks about the night they shared a dance. Sometimes, he thinks their differences are what makes him smile and laugh as much as he does whenever they’re together. Does she think about <em> this </em> too?<br/><br/></p><p>‘Are you coming?’ She calls him out of a daydream he didn’t realize he was dwelling on, paying for them at the counter. </p><p> </p><p>When he reaches her, they’re at the door and he has to stop as she loops an arm around his. She’s huddled close, close enough so he can smell something faintly floral in her hair. ‘Are you having a laugh? Now, we really do look like we’re on a—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Those vile girls haven’t left, they’re loitering outside like vultures vying for my social death. If you’re taking me home, I might as well leave here with some dignity. Maybe you can pretend…’</p><p> </p><p>Without great difficulty, he tugs her close as they exit the parlour, making a comment about how lovely she looks today. And with even less effort, he gives the tittering girls a few offensive hand gestures to shut them up when Sansa isn’t looking. It takes every ounce of his self-control to not give himself away.</p><p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. All I do is drink coffee and say bad words. (Gendrya)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Gendrya pregnancy domesticity.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Prompt: ‘All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.’<br/>Pairing: Gendrya</strong>
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  <strong>Words: 508<br/>Rating: T</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>‘All I do is drink coffee and say bad words,’ Arya grumbles, resting her head on her boyfriend’s lap as she lies on her side. The swell of her usually flat belly is even more prominent in this position.</p><p> </p><p>Gendry softly chuckles and she’s miffed that he’s paying slightly more attention to the football game than her. The only sign of his being aware of what she’s said is the way he starts carding his fingers through her hair. ‘How would that matter—’</p><p> </p><p>‘Idiot.’ She regrets blurting this out in a curt tone because he reacts immediately, turning down the volume at a crucial turning point for his team’s chances at winning. A surprising move since they’re usually a lost cause on a good day.</p><p> </p><p>‘Arya…’ </p><p> </p><p>She caresses her belly and bites at her bottom lip. ‘All I do is drink coffee and say bad words,’ she says more clearly.</p><p> </p><p>Annoyingly, he laughs again. ‘Is that it?’</p><p> </p><p>She turns herself, with some difficulty, to face him. ‘What if the little one finds out how absolutely obscene their mum is?’</p><p> </p><p>He’s got a perplexed face on, the one that she’s come to know very well. As much as he’s been a supportive, drop-everything-for-your-outrageous-requests kind of boyfriend during her pregnancy, she wonders when he’ll break. He hasn’t since the day she punched him square in the face on a dare in primary school. He hasn’t since the day she told him, ‘Whoops, I don’t think the birth control worked’. However, on a scale of all things that could break him, prompting him to tell her that she would be a good mother doesn’t seem like such a big deal. </p><p> </p><p><em> Gods </em>, pregnancy has turned her into a sap.</p><p> </p><p>His fingers are still stroking her hair, his smile growing. ‘The little one is going to have a mum that kicks all kinds of arse. The kind of mum that has every story under the sun to tell her at bedtime because she’s seen about as much of the world as you can see. The kind of mum that—’</p><p> </p><p>She places a hand over his mouth, smirking. ‘I knew I kept you around for something…’ </p><p> </p><p>‘It’s not for inspirational speeches, is it?’ He asks, hands coming up to smooth over her baby bump. He bends down to kiss it too.</p><p> </p><p>‘It’s a girl,’ she confesses and then quickly curls her lips back, anxiously waiting for a reply. </p><p> </p><p>His lips are still at her belly. Maybe he’s wondering if he’d heard her correctly, she thinks. Then, he lifts his head. ‘Did you just—’</p><p> </p><p>She rises up too, sitting cross-legged and opposite of him. ‘We’re having a girl.’ </p><p> </p><p>The way his eyes light up. His smile lines furrow. His smile widens. The way he can’t even say the word but mouths ‘girl’.  It all makes her eyes well up. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What a sap. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>‘I’m going to be a dad,’ he marvels.</p><p> </p><p>‘Idiot, you knew that already,’ she smiles through the correction. </p><p> </p><p>‘But I’m going to be <em> her </em> dad.’ He kisses her, a shaky, smiling one. </p><p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I’m here for you. (Robb/Margaery)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>For innersuperhero<br/>
Prompt: “I’m here for you.”<br/>
Pairing: Robbaery<br/>
Words: 734<br/>
Rating: T</b> <b></b></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It’s no secret that Margaery Tyrell is an imitiable force. There isn’t anyone quite like her.</p><p> </p><p>At least, that’s how Robb feels about his wife.</p><p> </p><p>If you need a tie-breaking opinion, she’d persuade you. If you need to solve a problem, she’d have the suitable person for the job or know a person who knows a person. If she didn’t have an answer, she’d find it by the end of the working day. It’s the reason for her steady climb up the corporate ladder at her firm.</p><p>So, as they drive up to her family’s estate house, he gives pause to the unusually quiet way about her tonight. </p><p> </p><p>‘Marge…’ he trails off in time to the car engine shutting off. ‘Ready, love?’</p><p> </p><p>She seems to ignore him, taking a compact mirror from her purse, adding a bit more colour to her red lips. She looks as pristinely elegant as she always does, but she keeps primping. </p><p> </p><p>He rests a hand on her hers, stopping her from adding another coat of lipstick. ‘Love… if you want to take your time, I’m not against it. But we do have to go in at some point.’</p><p> </p><p>‘No, we don’t,’ she says, seemingly ignorant of the petulant way she sounds. She even crosses her arms. ‘We’re perfectly fine to leave. I feel like I could pop into the shop around our flat and grab a bottle of wine we can share at home instead.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Listen, let’s say hello to your family, stay for a little while, and then find an excuse to leave,’ he reasons. ‘You haven’t seen them in—’</p><p> </p><p>‘I know it’s been a few months now. I don’t need the reminder,’ she says under her breath. Her mood shifts significantly into a darker place. </p><p> </p><p>‘Worse still...gran’s not even around to keep anyone in check.’ Her eyes are downcast at this. Then, as if she’s snapping from her inner turmoil, she says, ‘Let’s get this over with. I wouldn’t want Loras’ big promotion party overshadowed by our tardiness.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Wait, love.’ He stops her from stepping out of the car.</p><p> </p><p>For as long as he’s known Margaery, he’s known her to be a constant champion for her brother. After his coming out, after introducing Renly, after everything he’s had to come up against, she’s been at her brother’s side. But since her grandmother’s passing, the quiet way she’s been about her mother and father’s favouritism toward Loras has changed. She doesn't openly speak about how much it bothers her, but he knows. He also knows it’s not just about seeing her parents dote on her brother in front of her...</p><p> </p><p>He takes hold of her hand, his thumb tracing tiny circles on the inside of her palm. ‘I know it’s been hard to come home lately...I miss your gran too.’</p><p> </p><p>‘She was always an ally at these reunions. I miss her getting a rise out of dad.’ She nods, a soft smile finally spreading over her lips.</p><p> </p><p>‘I miss her heckling me about how <em> Northern </em> I am.’</p><p> </p><p>She gives another slight smile, laughter catching and rumbling in her throat. Then, she turns to face him fully. ‘I can keep coming home to this. It may get better. It might get worse. You know how I hate to be a...wallflower.’ </p><p> </p><p>‘You will <em> never </em> be that. ’ He smiles to hear her finally offer a fully formed laugh.</p><p> </p><p>‘It’s just...I don’t have my family on my side at these things...and she’s not here…’ The smile on her face wavers some, an uncommon crack in her commonly schooled features. Something he’s privileged to see at times.</p><p> </p><p>‘You’ll always have me,’ he tells her, bringing up her hand to kiss at her knuckles. ‘I’m here for you.’</p><p> </p><p>‘You’re alright, aren’t you?’ she replies, squeezing his hand in hers. Saying this out loud seems to settle her nerves for now. </p><p> </p><p>‘Just promise me…’ He strains to twist his features into a serious expression. He watches her wait in anticipation and he almost can’t hold in his amusement. ‘If Mace starts to talk to me about investing in another one of his ‘non-pyramid’ schemes, you have to be there for me too.’</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, he coaxes out another laugh from her, a relaxed, shoulder sagging laugh. </p><p> </p><p>‘C’mere,’ she says, curling a finger to gesture him forward. She kisses him lightly, still smiling as he kisses her back. </p><p><br/>
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